


pour some sugar on me

by kekinkawaii



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:01:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23646613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kekinkawaii/pseuds/kekinkawaii
Summary: Todd had been perfectly prepared to put all of this behind him, except now he was stuck in conversation with a stupidly-big crush on a stranger that refused to go away, which would still be tolerable if it weren't for the fact that said stranger had a very high possibility of being a potential murderer. He had just wanted a cup of tea.
Relationships: Todd Brotzman/Dirk Gently
Comments: 20
Kudos: 68





	pour some sugar on me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SpectralHeart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpectralHeart/gifts).



> HAPPY BDAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> I didn't actually plan on writing this. In fact, a few hours ago, I was about to go to sleep. And then I thought, but what if—  
> And thus, at four AM, this was born.
> 
> I hope you enjoy! :D

Seriously—who ate chocolate cake in bed?

Actually, on second thought, that sounded pretty damn good. Facing the TV, watching a movie, swaddled in fluffy white blankets while eating dessert… Todd made a mental note to try that out someday. But at least he’d have the decency to clean up afterwards, unlike the guests in room 301, who had not only decided it was a good idea to eat chocolate cake in bed, but also opted to leave the plate in the middle of the mattress, surrounded by smears and crumbs of cocoa, like some goddamn abstract art piece. Exhibit A, _What Not to Do at a Hotel._ Medium: 800-thread count bedsheets and German chocolate cake. 

Needless to say, it had been a long day. Todd wanted nothing more than to go home, make himself dinner, and relax. Maybe have a little dessert. _Not_ chocolate cake, because after spending twenty minutes scrubbing it from a woolen carpet, he really could never look at it the same way again.

He was strolling down Honeysuckle Avenue, halfway to home, when his steps slowed to read a sign propped up in front of a door. It notified Todd that the special today was the roasted red-pepper soup. There was also a drawing of a smiling coffee bean, with a little speech bubble that read: _What’s a coffee drinker’s favourite coding language? Java!_

He smiled at it, then looked up at the shop that the sign belonged to.

Situated in between a pottery shop and a boutique, Todd passed _The Java Hut_ every day on his walk home from the hotel. On sunny days, the door would be propped open, the scent of coffee beans and fresh-baked muffins drifting through the air. He’d never actually went in, though, on account of the fact that it was just a smidge too similar to one of those extra fancy, prestigious coffee shops that cost you five bucks a cup and had customers complain about the grind of the beans or roast or whatever. Todd’s daily coffee intake depended on a jar of instant coffee he’d gotten on sale at the grocery store, and he preferred tea, anyway.

Today, though, he stalled for longer than usual at the door. He deserved this, he decided, and pushed the door open to step inside.

The scent intensified as soon as he entered, rich and alluring. The place was brightly-lit, with colourful patches of art adorning the walls and giving the entire shop a unique, modern flair. A few tables and chairs lined the shop, scarcely scattered. There was only one person in line, wearing a striped black-and-yellow jacket that reminded Todd unnervingly of a bee. From the back, Todd could only see glimpses of his hand as he gesticulated wildly, arms flying through the air. 

_Huh,_ he thought, and got in line.

“Tracy was driving me _nuts_ today,” the man said. He had a British accent, a pleasant lilt to his vowels. “Tina, I have _never_ needed this cup of coffee more than I do today.”

“That’s what you said yesterday,” the barista, Tina, replied.

“Ah, but you see, that was _before_ today!”

“Alright, I’ll bite,” Tina said. “What happened?”

“So you know how Tracy murdered her husband?” 

Todd had gradually been starting to tune out, but upon hearing the words _murdered her husband_ his eyes widened and he gaped at the man’s back.

Oblivious, the man kept speaking. “I don’t know how to give her a good alibi! There is no way to hide what she’s done! Tina, help me! What if she moves to Costa Rica? Is that still a thing? Can I make her move to Costa Rica?”

Tina made a thoughtful face. “What if you said… that Tracy knew someone who would have a motive to kill her husband, to divert the police’s attention to _them_ instead of her?”

The man made a noise of frustration. “But that’s what _Stacy_ did! It would be suspicious if two people did the same thing!”

Todd stared at the man’s backdrop in increasing horror. Was this shop all an elaborate ploy for an intricate series of murders? Had he just unwittingly solidified his own death?

He was thinking about the best way to leave (sprint, or sneak? Both were suspicious, but which one was safer? What if he’d already made a mark on himself by stepping into the store?) when Tina’s eyes landed right on him.

Oh fuck. His body chose option C: None of the above. He froze.

Tina smiled at Todd and Todd felt the inevitability of human mortality settle its dark, doomed weight upon his shoulders. “Sorry to interrupt you, Dirk,” Tina said, “but there’s someone else in line.”

The man whirled around. Todd didn’t know what he was expecting, but he was greeted with an expression of surprise on a shockingly-handsome face.

“Oh!” Dirk said when he saw Todd. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were there.”

Of course you didn’t, Todd thought grimly. _Otherwise you wouldn’t have openly discussed your plans to cover up a murder right in front of me._

“That’s alright,” he said instead. Maybe they’d let him go if he pretended he hadn’t heard them. He gave Dirk his best, most charming smile—the one that pulled out all the stops and disarmed even the angriest of customers. He even let his eyes shine a little, showing off their bright blue. He hadn’t gotten employee of the month for nothing.

Dirk’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. He didn’t _look_ like he was planning on murdering Todd in a dark alley, and Todd felt his smile soften into something a little more genuine.

“Anyway,” Dirk said. “I’ll just—” He stepped aside for Todd to come up to the cashier. 

“Thanks,” Todd said, and then turned to Tina. “I’ll have a chamomile tea, please. Black.”

“Your name?”

“Todd.” (Wait, what if that was how they identified their victims? Damn, they were good!)

“Comin’ right up!” Tina chirped. She didn’t seem like she was going to murder him in a dark alley, either. Maybe they had been joking. Maybe they were _nice_ murderers. Either way, Todd was leaving the second he got his drink and never coming back, because better safe than sorry was his motto, and it hadn’t failed him yet.

After paying a surprisingly-low price, he sidled his way to the waiting area, and awkwardly read the overhead menu behind the cashier. He could feel Dirk standing right next to him, mere metres away. Oh, hell, was he looking this way?

Todd tried to inconspicuously spot him out of his peripheral vision and confirmed that, yes, Dirk was looking his way. He felt his heart pounding against his ribs as he gave a minute glance back, offering Dirk a quick smile. Dirk beamed back, a million-watts bright. Todd thought fleetingly that he was way too attractive to be a murderer. It was a shame, really. 

“Drinks for Dirk and Todd,” a barista called out, sliding two cups across the counter. They were covered with the same colourful, blocky designs as the walls.

Todd startled and tore his gaze away from Dirk. Feeling his face flush, he stepped forwards and grabbed the closest cup. Next to him, Dirk did the same, coming in close enough that Todd caught a whiff of his cologne—something soft and warm and lightly spiced. He gave himself a mental scolding, because ridiculously attractive or not, there was no way he had a crush on a potential murderer. Not even if they smelled like a freaking pumpkin pie. Not even if their eyes were the purest turquoise he’d ever seen. Not even if they smiled with the force of a thousand suns when they looked at him, raising their coffee cup in cheers.

Damn it!

To hide how flustered he was, Todd raised his own cup back at Dirk before taking a sip out of it—and immediately gagged, because that was definitely not chamomile tea.

“Oh my god,” he said. With one sip, his sense of taste had the equivalent of a mental breakdown. It tasted like someone had taken a gallon of coffee and double that amount of sugar and boiled it down until all the flavour was concentrated into a single cup. “Fuck.”

“Todd?” Dirk asked, sounding concerned. “Are you okay? Did you burn yourself?”

Todd tried valiantly to get the taste off of his tongue. He shook his head. 

“Um,” Dirk said. “Are you… blown away by how phenomenal your chamomile tea tastes?”

Todd laughed at that. He tilted the cup in hands and a loopy scrawl came into sight: _Dirk,_ it read.

Of all the things that could’ve happened. “This is not my tea,” he said simply, and turned the name to Dirk to show him.

Dirk blinked, and then looked at his own drink. “Oh,” he said. 

“Yeah,” Todd said. 

“Oops,” Dirk said.

“Yeah,” Todd said again.

Dirk paused for a moment, and then raised an eyebrow. _“That_ was your reaction to my drink?”

Todd made a face. “It’s... interesting,” he settled upon.

Dirk snickered. “It’s a triple-shot espresso with three sugars,” he said, and took his own cup from Todd’s hands, replacing it with the chamomile tea. “Anyone would be reasonably shocked, I suppose.” He took a hefty gulp from the cup Todd had just drank from, and sighed happily while Todd watched with a mix of disgust and awe.

Tentatively, Todd sipped his own tea. It tasted, thankfully, like tea.

“Sorry about that,” Dirk said, offering him a crooked smile in apology. “I didn’t realize I’d taken the wrong cup. I was, um. Distracted.” 

Todd made a small noise of assent.

“You were distracted, too, I suppose,” Dirk mused, not seeming to notice or mind that Todd wasn’t speaking. Todd repeated his previous noise of assent. He had been perfectly prepared to put all of this behind him, except now he was stuck in conversation with a stupidly-big crush on a stranger that refused to go away, which would still be tolerable if it weren't for the fact that said stranger had a very high possibility of being a potential murderer. He had just wanted a cup of tea.

“Oh, dear,” Dirk said, breaking the silence. “Okay, so I don’t usually do this. Actually, I very rarely do this. Actually, this is my first time ever doing this.” He took a deep breath. “Todd—I, um—”

Fuck, Todd thought. He had blown it, and now Dirk was going to take him to the back of the shop and chop him up into tiny little pieces and brainstorm alibi ideas with Tracy over cups of coffee.

“Do you want to get dinner with me?”

What?

“What?” Todd said inanely.

“I really like you,” Dirk continued. “I mean, obviously I’ve only known you for about two minutes, and I haven’t really exchanged proper conversation with you yet, so it’s perhaps a little early to establish proper opinions of each other, but whilst I know I shouldn’t judge a book by its cover you have the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen and I would really very much like to, erm, _read_ you, so to speak—oh, god, this metaphor isn’t working. I just want to get to know you better. Get dinner with me? Please?”

He said the entire thing in a single breath, and followed it with a huge gulp of the hell-beverage he had in his cup, before looking at Todd with the most disarming puppy-eyes he’d ever seen.

Todd felt like the world had just tilted on its axis, knocked off-kilter by the barrage of words, and he was scrabbling desperately for a hold. So unbalanced he was, in fact, that his mind-to-mouth filter seemed to have disappeared altogether. “But what about Tracy?” he said.

Dirk blinked owlishly. “Tracy?”

“Tracy,” Todd said. “The woman who murdered her husband? The one you were trying to provide an alibi for?”

Dirk snapped his fingers. “Oh, yeah!” he said. “Tracy! I’m an author. I write crime fiction. Tracy’s my latest character on the draft I’m working on.” He tilted his head. “What about her?”

Todd was silent for long enough that Dirk started to look mildly concerned. “Todd?”

 _“Jesus,”_ Todd said, and laughed, a little hysterically.

“You okay?” Dirk said, eyebrows scrunched together.

“Never better,” Todd said, and shook his head with another laugh.

“Right,” Dirk said, looking like he didn’t believe him. “In that case…”

“Yes,” Todd said. “Yes, I’ll have dinner with you.”

Dirk’s face spread into a supernova of a smile.

Todd dug in his pocket for his phone before handing it to Dirk. “Here, give me your number.”

Obediently, Dirk took it and began to type. “Why were you asking about Tracy?” he asked curiously while inputting his number.

“Don’t worry about it,” Todd said. Dirk seemed to brush it off. He finished typing and handed the phone back to Todd, who glanced at the screen.

Dirk had saved his number as _Coffee Shop Murderer._

Todd made a soft strangled noise and looked up at Dirk, who was grinning openly at him.

“You would not believe how many times I’ve gotten the police threatened to be called on me,” Dirk said. “Tina once recorded one of our conversations and played it back for me, and I have to say it’s an honest mistake.”

Feeling embarrassed at being caught out, Todd huffed. “Well, I’m glad you aren’t a murderer,” he muttered.

Dirk laughed. “So am I,” he said. “I would never have a chance with you if I were, would I?”

Todd pretended to think. “I don’t know,” he said. “You got pretty far when I thought you were. We already had an indirect kiss.” He nodded at the cup in Dirk’s hands.

“Hm,” Dirk said. “In that case, here’s hoping non-murderer me is going to get even further than that.”

Todd hummed thoughtfully, and then he took a step closer and went up on his tiptoes to press a small kiss to Dirk’s lips. He tasted like sugar, almost cloyingly sweet, laced with a heavy espresso.

“There,” he said afterwards. “Now you already have.”

Dirk looked softly stunned. It was endearing, and Todd’s stomach fluttered with affection. 

“Not enough,” Dirk said after a moment.

“What?”

Dirk shook his head. “Murderer me could’ve gotten more than that. We need to step up our game.”

“Oh, do we?” Todd said.

“For sure,” Dirk said.

“Well,” Todd said, “if you insist.” He wrapped one arm around Dirk and pulled him back in, the other hand reaching up to bury itself into his hair. Dirk made a happy noise in his throat and reciprocated wholeheartedly. 

Todd made a mental note to thank the guests in room 301.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! If you liked this late-night rambling, please drop a comment down below. It really does make my day <3


End file.
